


saving tears in jars for this one

by Dawn_Blossom



Series: Chrom/Grima in Askr [6]
Category: Fire Emblem Heroes
Genre: M/M, finally the family's all here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 10:49:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16721898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dawn_Blossom/pseuds/Dawn_Blossom
Summary: Grima meets his daughter, Morgan.





	saving tears in jars for this one

**Author's Note:**

> I've been thinking a lot about Morgan lately... I love her so much... (I love m!Morgan too, but since he's always looking for his mother, I figure he isn't going to seek out m!Grima on his own... And Grima's not going to solicit his company, even if he IS curious about that Grima's Truth tome.)
> 
> The title comes from [Forever My Father](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tcpk0uJlTbw) by Go Radio. I heard it on a Morgan playlist and I was like... dang, that IS a Morgan song.
> 
> Anyway, if you're still into this series of mine, I hope you enjoy the latest installment ^^

If Grima were not so attuned to his senses, he might not hear the soft click of his door opening, absorbed as he is in revising Kiran’s latest proposed Arena strategy.

But he does hear it, and he immediately stills. Normally, he would not be concerned. Chrom is the only one who enters his room without asking. (He would allow it from Lucina, but she insists on knocking each time. She is more concerned for his privacy than he is himself.) 

Grima knows, however, that Chrom is currently battling amidst the latest tempest that has come to disrupt them. He would not yet have had enough time to arrive back. So it cannot be Chrom, but who else would be so foolish as to walk into the fell dragon’s room?

“Father…?” 

Grima’s gaze snaps to the doorway.

“Father… You…”

The dark-haired young woman’s eyes widen. Grima knows her name to be Morgan, as there have been others before her. All have been searching for their tactician father.

That is, they have all been searching for Robin.

“Has nobody informed you?” Grima mutters. “I know what it says on Kiran’s roster, but I’m not your father. I’m—”

“Master Grima,” Morgan says softly. “Forgive me; I… I know your name. I—”

“Stop,” Grima says. The other Morgans have not called him their master. The term chills him. If she is his child, she should not be a mere follower. If she is not his child, she should not be near him at all. “There are other tacticians named Robin in this realm. You would be better off searching among them.”

Morgan scowls.

“That’s what Alfonse said, too,” she says. “But you’re both wrong! The others are too different! And besides... I know my father’s eyes are red…”

Grima frowns. The other Morgans have had no trouble recognizing the golden-eyed Robins as their father. Nor have they referred to their father as Grima.

“What happened in your world?” he asks. Perhaps he will find the detail that distinguishes her.

“Um…” Morgan sheepishly rubs the back of her head. “I… don’t remember?”

“Nothing at all?” Grima asks. “You remember my name…”

“I remember you,” Morgan says quickly. “I remember that you taught me how to read when I was too young to even lift your books. You taught me about all the different kinds of weapons, and when I turned out to be adept at magic, you taught me its intricacies yourself. You taught me tactics. We talked strategy every night. We travelled a lot, so we were always getting injured. We had to shelter in strange places, but you were always with me, so it was okay.”

Grima grimaces. Perhaps she did get dragged around by the fell dragon of her world.

Perhaps he did the same thing to a child in his own world. It isn’t as though he can remember.

“So your life was harsh,” he says. “You’re in a better place now, child. The Askrans will let you make what you want of yourself.”

There’s no reason for her to run back to the master that forced her to live as a fugitive.

“You don’t understand, do you…?” Morgan murmurs shakily. “Life was never bad to me. I was happy as long as I could stay with you…”

Before Grima can respond further, Morgan stumbles forward, flinging her arms around his neck.

“Please,” she whispers, closing her eyes as though she’s experiencing tremendous pain. “Don’t make me live without you.”

Grima exhales sharply. He cannot deny the physical resemblance between them, and from the description of her life, he cannot imagine that a peace-seeking tactician could have raised her. But if she is his, she must have suffered. No matter what she says about being happy, the fell dragon could not have shown her a world worth living in.

Slowly, Grima runs his hand through her hair. If she takes after him, it should feel very pleasant.

“Were we alone there, Morgan?” he asks.

Morgan opens her eyes. They are watery, and a single tear escapes past her eyelashes.

“I don’t remember anything but you,” she says.

Grima meets her gaze. There is misery and adoration alike in her shining eyes.

“I don’t remember anything recent from my world,” Grima says. “The continent was still called Archanea at the time of my last memory. But I believe what you’ve told me. You are certainly my child.”

Morgan smiles hesitantly.

Grima cannot abandon her. Even though she would not be cold and alone here among the Order of Heroes, he is the only person here that she has any recollection of. Who else can she rely on, especially if she espouses loyalty to the fell dragon in front of those who distrust him?

“I told you before that you can make what you want of yourself,” he says. “If your wish is to stay by my side, then I will not turn you away.”

Perhaps he should warn her of the dangers of his association. She does not remember the violence he surely wrought with her as his servant. But somehow, he does not think she would listen to him. She remembers a father who cared for her despite being the embodiment of despair and ruin.

If he cannot spare her from being the fell dragon’s daughter, the least he can do is care for her.

Morgan lets out a hysterical laugh.

“Of course my wish is to stay by your side, Father,” she says. “I want to be with you until I die! I love you!”

A flash of blue outside the doorway draws Grima’s attention. Seconds later, Lucina steps into view.

“Grima?” she asks with concern. “Is everything okay?”

Morgan turns toward the door, confusion apparent in her gaze. She clearly does not have any memories of Lucina, for Lucina is far too distinctive not to stir up recognition if she did.

“Lucina, this is Morgan… My daughter,” Grima says. “She remembers my eyes… among other things.”

“Lucina?” Morgan tilts her head. “I’m sorry, I can’t remember much about my world. Did we ever meet in yours?”

Lucina’s eyes widen. She turns around, and for a moment Grima considers the possibility that she could simply run away. But she merely closes the door, and her expression is again neutral when she answers.

“I’ve seen you before,” she admits. “But I do not truly know you.”

It’s a careful evasion of the crux of the matter. Given the extent to which Lucina fought the fell dragon in her world, she must have more than “seen” Morgan.They would have been enemies. They surely would have come to blows.

But then again, Lucina, contrary to all reason, has chosen to embrace Grima as both an ally and, dare he say it, a companion. Why wouldn’t she afford Morgan the same courtesy? After all, if Morgan ever fought, it would have been on Grima’s orders.

“I guess that means our story gets to start out on a blank page,” Morgan says. She grins as she bounds over to offer her hand to Lucina. “It’s nice to meet you!”

Lucina smiles faintly as she curls her own hand against Morgan’s.

“I look forward to learning more about you,” she says. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing much of each other. Our fathers are practically inseparable, you see.”

A blush prickles Grima’s skin as Morgan looks back at him. Fortunately, she seems excited rather than critical.

“Can I meet him, Father?” she asks. “What kind of person is he?”

“Of course you’ll meet him,” Grima says. If she truly wants to stay by his side, she will have to meet him. “Chrom is… Lucina’s father. He’s… a leader to the people of his country. He is…”

Grima pauses. He is not sure what words could possibly describe how he sees Chrom. He is the light that allows Grima to see clearly. He is the tether that keeps Grima from drifting away. He is the fire that warms Grima when he’s frozen, and he is the water that relieves Grima when his passions burn too hotly.

The click of the door opening startles him.

“He’s… here,” he says.

Chrom blinks in surprise.

“And here I thought you’d be bored without me,” he says with a chuckle.

Grima scoffs.

“You were not gone long enough for me to grow bored,” he says. “Surely the tempest did not clear so quickly… Do not tell me you fell in battle.”

Grima curses the so-called “horse emblem” team. They do not understand Chrom and do not adequately protect him.

“The tempest still rages, but I did not fall,” Chrom says. He steps closer to Grima, and Grima moves to meet him almost automatically. “Kiran told me that I should come back.”

“Maybe they wanted you to meet me,” Morgan suggests. Her intense gaze travels from his boots up to his face. She pauses when she sees the Falchion at his side, but though a strange look passes through her eyes, she says nothing of it. “So… I guess you know my father well?”

Chrom smiles.

“Yes,” he says. “I think that I do.”

“Morgan just arrived here,” Grima says. “I believe her plan is to fight beside me.”

Meaning, of course, that Chrom must also fight next to her. If he intends to keep fighting at Grima’s side, that is.

“I am certain you will be exceptional, Morgan,” Chrom says. Though looking at Morgan, his hand finds its way to Grima’s shoulder. “Just like your father.”

Morgan beams.

“Well, of course!” she says. “You know what they say; a family that slays together stays together!”

Grima does not think he has ever heard anyone say that. Behind Morgan, Lucina is furrowing her brow.

Chrom, however, continues to smile.

“Our bonds give us strength,” he agrees, to which Morgan nods vigorously

And in that moment, Grima has no doubt that Morgan will fit in with them just fine.


End file.
